


Bucky Barnes at the Gym

by JolieFolie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, captain rum
Genre: Banter, Coffee, F/M, Fluff, Gyms, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, Kissing, Lust, Muscles, Swearing, light humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1805551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JolieFolie/pseuds/JolieFolie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're on your way to get coffee, when you see a familiar man working out at the gym. And damn, he looks hot. I mean, temperature hot, because he's... you know. Where was I going with this?</p><p>Inspired by a gif of Sebastian Stan working out. I'm such a weirdo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky Barnes at the Gym

**Author's Note:**

> I love watching men work out. I love SebStan. When I saw SebStan working out, I fell into a three-week coma. When I woke up, I wrote this fic and then asked, "Where the hell am I?"
> 
> I still don't know where I am. Somewhere in Canada. HEEELP!
> 
> P.S. Here's the video of SebStan: http://instagram.com/p/oN5bOziVM7

You’re walking your usual route, which happens to pass by a gym. Which happens to have walls made entirely of glass. You’re usually pretty good about keeping your eyes to yourself, despite the abundance of hot guys working out on the first floor every morning. You don’t want to be rude and stare.

 

No, you just normally walk this slow and wear reflective sunglasses.

 

There’s a long-haired guy using the pulleys. As if Satan or God or whoever is running the universe is purposely trying to ruin your day.

 

You trail your gaze down his body and notice he’s wearing a tight shirt, with one long sleeve and the other sleeve cut off, revealing his straining muscles. You examine the sleeve-encased arm and notice his hand is glimmering silver.

 

The arms stop moving. He’s staring at you.

 

You pull your sunglasses off and smile sheepishly. Well, now you have to say hi.

 

* * *

 

 _Good thing I’m too lazy to cancel my membership_ , you think as you swipe your card. You’re dressed in a t-shirt and yoga pants, so for all anybody knows, you could be on your way to work out.

 

Bucky waves to you and you walk over. You smile at him. “I didn’t know you work out here.”

 

He casts a sly look over to you as he pulls the cables. “I didn’t know you were a pervert.”

 

“What? I don’t know --”

 

“You were totally creeping up that sidewalk. Look at you, you’re in full creeper regalia.”

 

You touch your sunglasses self-consciously. “It’s sunny, and I’m getting coffee.”

 

“I don’t know any coffee places around here.”

 

“I do. Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

 

He strains on his final pull, pressing his lips together. “You want to pass me my water bottle?”

 

You spot his bottle on the floor a few feet away and snap it up. “Why, is it too heavy for you?”

 

He narrows his eyes and drags the corner of his mouth up. “Smart ass.” He releases the cables and takes the bottle from you, his fingers grazing yours for a split second, but enough electricity passes between you to light up an IKEA. He tilts his head back and his Adam’s apple bobs as he sucks back the water. There are a few beads of sweat pooled between his clavicles and you want to lick them off.

 

And then you remember his comment about you being a creeper. Maybe you should cool it for now. You look around, trying not to stare at him. A woman walks down the stairs; she checks out Bucky and then glares at you.

 

 _Oh my God, do I look like a clingy girlfriend?_ You feel like someone’s punched you in the stomach. “I should go,” you say, your speech pressured as the blood rushes to your face.

 

“Stay. I’m almost finished.” He passes the bottle back to you. It’s considerably lighter. “You can be my water girl.” He wipes down the handles of the cable machine and saunters over to the bench press.

 

You take a swig from his bottle and taste his salt. “You sure you don’t mind if I watch?”

 

He slides the heaviest-looking weights onto the barbell. You try to make out the numbers on each of the weights and it looks like he put on more than 300 pounds. Holy shit. “You’d be watching anyways, right?”

 

“No.”

 

He laughs as he lies down on the bench and splays his legs apart. He reaches up to grip the barbell and the bottom of his shirt rides up, revealing his pelvis. His pelvic bones arrow into his shorts, which are riding dangerously low. You know he keeps his torso waxed, but there’s dark hair just above his shorts and you’re not sure if maybe he missed a spot or whether that’s…

 

“Are you sure you can lift that much?” You hope you sound concerned and not sarcastic. You don’t want him to get hurt. Emotionally or physically.

 

His raises his head and gives you a look. “You’re right.” He swings his body up from the bench. “I could use more.” He grabs another pair of weights and slides them on.

 

“No way.” He’s got 325 pounds on it now. You don’t mean to sound discouraging, but that’s seriously heavy.

 

He shoots you another look as he settles himself back on the bench. He smirks, but his eyes look a little hurt. “You’re not a very supportive water girl.”

 

“That’s what you get for hiring a rookie.”

 

“A rookie? Doll, you’ve done this before. How do you know three twenty-five is heavy?”

 

You try to hide your smile. “I’ve just never seen any other guy lift that much.”

 

“Well, prepare to be amazed.” He grips the barbell and tenses his whole body. He pushes upwards and you almost don’t think it’s going to happen. It looks like he’s going to lift that metal bar and it’s going to land directly on his neck.

 

He lets out a grunt and slides the barbell up off the holder. He keeps his arms straight, although they’re faintly wobbly, and the bar hovers over his head. You want to cover your face with your hands, but you want to show that you have faith in him, so you keep your hands by your sides.

 

He checks your expression. The corner of his mouth turns up. “Why so serious, dollface?”

 

You open your mouth to speak, but the barbell falls down. You jump, your eyes wide.

 

His arms, shoulders, and pecs all contract at once, stopping the weight just before it crashes down on his neck. He laughs as he pushes the weight back up, his arms straightening.

 

Your shoulders relax. _He meant to do that._ Your face heats up. You hope he doesn’t think you’re gullible.

 

“You’re too easy,” he laughs, slightly out of breath. He sounds like he’s having sex, but all he’s doing is bench presses while fucking with your mind. Which is almost as hot.

 

Okay, it’s probably just as hot, considering it’s the middle of the day, you’re both clothed, and you’re in a public place.

 

_Hmm, what else could we get away with in public?_

Bucky starts counting out loud, as if he knows your mind has wandered away and he needs to draw your attention to what a delicious beast he is. Like you need reminding. You could fill his water bottle with all the drool you could produce just watching him.

 

When you realize he’s not going to kill himself, you cross your arms and shift your weight to one foot. His legs are straining, and you notice the bulge at the apex of his legs. Does this dude have muscles in his package too? Your jaw loosens a little. “Maybe you should take your shirt off.” The notes of your voice taste like the cotton candy clouds you’re floating away on.

 

“What?” he pants.

 

You snap back to attention. “Um, I said, maybe you should take a weight off. It looks heavy.”

 

He laughs again, but sweat is sliding off his forehead. His face is growing redder and redder. The barbell rises slower each time, as if he’s draining his energy just to impress you. You realize you could straddle him right now and, until he put the barbell down, you could do pretty much whatever you wanted to do with him.

 

Like pull his pants down. Is he wearing underwear? Is he wearing cologne, or does he just naturally smell this good? An image flashes through your mind: a hybrid between an Axe commercial and the movie _Perfume_.

 

_God, I’m such a freak. And if God’s not listening… whazzup, Satan?_

Bucky lets out a long grunt. “A little help?” The barbell is a hair’s width away from his neck, and he’s not pushing it away. Not able to push it away. _Damn it, Bucky!_

 

You dash towards him and pull up on the barbell. Holy hell, is it heavy. Your lungs squeeze out all your air, as if someone’s punched you in the stomach or you’ve found a gif of Tom Hiddleston shirtless. “Bucky, I can’t lift this!”

 

“Don’t let go!”

 

You cry like Sailor Moon from the nineties. Bucky grits his teeth like Tuxedo Mask with a goddamn rose in his mouth. It’s like lifting a glacier, but finally, _finally,_ the barbell slips back up into the holder. His arms drop down, exhausted. There’s a pool of sweat on his chest and, when he sits up, his shirt sticks to the moisture. Even after a near death encounter, he’s still sexy.

 

_Don’t people usually get horny after near death encounters? Like, it activates your baby-making instincts because your body’s like, ‘holy hell, we goin’ die!’_

“Thanks,” he breathes. He stands up and he’s so much taller than you, he’s like a tree you want to picnic under. And build a swing on. Basically, you want to swing from his body like an unhinged orangutan.

 

“Water?” You offer the bottle as some sort of sacrifice to this Tree God.

 

His fingers brush against yours as he accepts the bottle, transferring some of the sweat on his fingers to your fingers. He tilts his head back and drains the bottle, his full lips forming a seal around the nozzle. He sucks it back until there’s only air in the bottle. Even when he passes the bottle back to you, his lips are still flushed.

 

You’re staring at his lips. You reach your hand out to accept the bottle and miss. The bottle drops to the floor. “Sorry,” you stammer. You drop to the floor and pick it up faster than he can do that thing where someone pretends to want to pick something up, just to be polite, so they kinda bend but not really.

 

Bucky pulls the weights off the barbell and sets them back in their place. He wipes down the bench and bar and then walks to the entrance gate. “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes, I just gotta shower.”

 

“Should I wait by the door?”

 

He whips around and pulls you into him. “You should join me,” he says, dead serious. He releases you and erupts in a smile. “Nah, just kidding. No dolls allowed in the men’s room.”

 

“What about those gender-neutral rooms?” You follow him to the gate.

 

“Don’t have them here.”

 

“Well, that’s just trans-phobic or something.” You watch him walk away as you head to the front door. You hold each other’s gaze for as long as possible; he even turns his body to watch you. You know it’ll only be fifteen minutes, but it hurts like watching the moon become erased during a lunar eclipse.

 

He winks at you, and then he’s gone.

 

* * *

 

He comes out later with his hair damp and slicked back, his face bright and clean. “I forgot my body wash. I scrubbed as hard as I could, but I’m sorry if I still don’t smell the greatest.”

 

You weave your hand between his arm and torso and squeeze his bicep. “I think you smell amazing.”

His eyebrows dart up. “Oh, okay,” he laughs a little. It’s rare to catch Bucky off guard. He’s kinda sweet when he doesn’t have a quick comeback.

 

You start walking. “So, coffee? Or what do you drink?”

He tugs your arm back and pulls you in for a kiss. Right there in broad daylight, even with people yammering on cell phones and buses whirring by and random babies crying, it’s perfect. Just you, Bucky, and the sunshine.

 

He sucks on your lower lip a little before releasing you from the kiss. When you open your eyes, he’s already looking down at you contentedly. You fall into him slightly and he cups your shoulders to steady you. He turns his torso and starts walking again. “Coffee, I don’t know… I’m gonna need a skinny vegan soy mochaccino with --”

 

“Oh my God, you’re so high-maintenance.”

 

He bumps into you playfully. “Just kidding. Coffee sounds good.”

**Author's Note:**

> As with my other Winter Soldier fic, there is a first-person narration version on FF.net. (When I was changing all the "you"s to "I"s, I was like, 'hmm, this makes me sound even pervier," especially in the first little part. Oh well ^_^)  
> (Is pervier a word? It looks French. *twirls French moustache and leers* Yup, sounds about right).


End file.
